Fear of the Dark
by 3N1GMA
Summary: Set after the OotP ministry encounter. Minor violence. Slightly suggestive. BL/LV. Having faced the Dark Lord's wrath following the failure at the ministry, Bella decides to run; but she does not get very far...


_Disclaimer: I obviously do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, those are property of J. K. Rowling._

This story is set after the OotP ministry encounter.

This is my first story. Please R&R.

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**Fear of the Dark**

The first specks of rain marked the ground. A storm was gathering in the distance.

She ran.

The twilight deepened slowly, as if reluctant to impose on the remnants of the day – those, however, were fading quickly and had soon disappeared completely. The air was still, expectant.

She kept running.

The sky continued to darken as the light silken clouds changed into a menacing velvet, from grey to black.

She had to get away... away... She had to...

The storm came: light at first, but gradually becoming stronger, bringing with it a vicious chill, terrible, merciless.

She felt the cold invade every part of her body, but she knew she must not stop. No, she _could_ _not_ stop now.

The rain was coming down in torrents. Thunder sounded in the distance, but she barely heard it behind the angry howl of the wind which was struggling to tear the branches off the trees. The air grew colder by the moment. She felt her legs beginning to give in, but ran on as if hoping to outrun the weakness. Every movement drained her strength, and she did not have much left to spare. She knew it. It was a lost battle: her body was simply incapable of enduring the strain much longer. She knew that, too, and made a conscious effort to avoid comprehending the fact, because it would only be a few minutes before she collapsed, and then... What would happen then? She would try not to think of it and to keep going... it was so important to keep going and not to think, not to think at all...

Run... run... run...

The storm showed no signs of abating.

She no longer felt the rain or the cold. Nothing existed except the motion of her body.

In another moment she found herself sprawled on the ground, an impenetrable wall of water on every side. Her hair was disheveled; her cloak and dress drenched, dirty, and torn; her arms, legs, and face bruised; her eyes bloodshot. Her frozen body was trembling. She fought with every bit of her will to make an attempt to stand up, but her legs would not support her. She collapsed again. The dim realization that it was over slowly settled inside her mind and she began to slip out of consciousness.

A flash of lightning illuminated the scene and she briefly caught sight of a tall dark figure standing just a few inches from her. Though the figure's face was hidden beneath a hood, she instantly recognized its identity, _his_ identity. It was enough to make her previous feeling of weakness vanish. Fear swept through her and blurred every other sensation. It wasn't without effort, however, that she pulled herself to one knee, her head lowered.

"My Lord," she breathed, feeling a catch in her throat.

"Enjoying an evening stroll, Bella?" The high, cold voice carried an evident note of mockery.

"I... " The sound died away on her lips: there was nothing that she could say. Suddenly she became extremely conscious of her appearance. Her one desire was to disappear.

The cloaked man seemed to consider her for a moment. Although she did not dare look up, she felt him move closer. She knew that he was standing directly over her now.

"You disobeyed my orders, Bella... Why?" He spoke softly, but dangerously. It made her shudder.

"I... I am s-sorry, m-my Lord." Her voice came only slightly above a whisper.

"No," he hissed, "That's not right, Bella. I want you to answer my question." He drew his wand and raised her chin with its tip, "Can't you?"

She did not answer but kept her gaze lowered.

A barely visible smile of satisfaction played on his pale lips, and though she did not see it, she felt certain that he was enjoying her torment. At that thought a spark of resentment lit inside her: she wanted to let him know how much she despised him and _this_ time he would not break her. She looked at him defiantly and...

_She stood before him in the library of the Malfoy Mansion. He spoke._

"_Do not imagine that I saved you in a gesture of kindness. You may yet wish I had left you there to die. I am not fond of failure."_

"_But, Master, I tried my best..."_

"_And you failed. Miserably."_

"_But I was fighting..."_

"_Silence!"_

"_But it was not my fault!"_

"_I said, SILENCE! Your performance last night was pathetic. You are becoming weak, Bella."_

"_I am not weak..."_

"_Your exuberant self-confidence does not follow the facts. It highlights your weakness."_

"_I am NOT weak! Cruc..."_

_He laughed._

"_Weak. Shall I show you how it's done?"_

"_No!"_

"_CRUCIO!"_

_She was gasping for air._

"_I... am..."_

_He lifted the curse and coldly completed the sentence._

"_Weak."_

"_You nee__d to learn your place," he added as he turned around to leave._

That last phrase was now ringing through her mind. She realized that she had made a fatal mistake. The rush of strength she felt earlier melted away without a trace. She was weak. He was strong. He could have been a god. Really, it did not matter very much. He bent the world to his will as easily as he could a mere plaything; in fact, to him the world _was_ a mere plaything... What was _she_? His will was law. How could she have ever disobeyed him? How could she have questioned his superiority? How could she have deemed herself, even for a second, his equal? _His _equal! The mere idea of it was preposterous. She could never be as strong as he, ever... There, the first step was to admit it. But she could be stronger than she was now. She could learn... and she could redeem his trust... She used to be his favorite, certainly used to be his favorite... or was she? At any rate it had seemed that way until... She looked into those eyes and felt them pierce her through, burn her soul and freeze it. She had disappointed him. She had...The thought of it was unbearable. Never had she felt as miserable as she did now, not even before... And now she had outdone herself... Stupid, stupid, stupid... It may very well have been the last thing she ever did... and perhaps it was better this way. She would _welcome_ death now; at _his_ hands she would welcome it.

The storm raged on. She was once again aware of the cold.

"Yes, that _was_ stupid, Bella," the voice was quiet and even. "Defiance is something that I will not tolerate... from _anyone_." He paused, savoring the effect each of his words produced in her.

She was trembling, partially from the cold, but increasingly from the full apprehension of what she had done that was beginning to overwhelm her.

"I am disappointed in you, Bella, yes, but you will not die, not tonight: that would be much too simple and rather pointless, I am afraid." A shadow of a smile passed across his lips as he paused once more before continuing, "I must, however, teach you a lesson that, unlike that of last time, you will not so easily forget."

She turned deathly pale at the last words. She thought she would faint, she _hoped _that she would, but she did not.

"Do you understand?" He asked in the same soft and even voice.

The silent plea of her eyes passed in vain, she knew. His eyes were cold. She drew a deep breath, then nodded slowly.

"Answer." It was a command this time.

Her heart beat as though about to burst. "Yes, my Lord, I... understand..." It was all she could do to keep the tears away from her eyes as she pronounced each word.

Another flash of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder. It did not matter. She wanted to run, to hide, to die instantly right there and then; and yet she could not look away from those eyes, from_ his_ eyes, looking inside her, seeing her every thought, perhaps knowing her mind better than she knew it herself and yet seemingly blind to the one thing she so desperately wanted them to see: she _was_ his best, his most loyal, and would always be because she was _his_, mind, body, and soul; she would do anything for him: gladly suffer for him, readily die for him... Or maybe he did see it and was doing this to her intentionally, maybe... He knew. A tear rolled down her cheek. Without thinking, she grasped his hand and pressed it to her lips. The long white fingers felt like ice; nevertheless, there was, she thought, a particular beauty about them, a beauty which she did not, however, have long to admire, as almost instantly she was thrown backwards onto the ground, the tears on her face mingled with the rain.

"CRUCIO!"

Pain surged through her body and she lost herself in it. She was being torn apart from the inside, pierced by hot arrows again and again; sharp knives tearing her skin... She fought hard to maintain some degree of control, knowing that it was useless. It slipped. She screamed, but no sound came. She was wrapped in silence, unable to breathe, writhing in agony, clawing desperately at the ground. Yet she did not _want_ to resist it, to escape it; her body begged for mercy for an end... any end, but it was his will that she should bear this, and bear it she would, though it were worse than last time, immeasurably worse. Last time... she did not want to think about it now; it would only add another dimension to the excruciating pain of the moment. She screamed again: this time her voice seemed to come from far way.

He watched her with apparent indifference. Were she able to clearly see his face, she would have noticed an unusual gleam in his eyes, not a sparkle, something else, some unidentifiable emotion beyond his cold smile of satisfaction. She could not see anything, however.

It might have lasted hours or days, she did not know; it felt like an eternity... and then it was over, as suddenly as it began. The rain, too, had subsided, and a thick fog was settling around them instead. She lay semi-conscious on the cold ground at his feet. She did not feel anything anymore. "Please, Master... please... forgive me... I... love... you..." She uttered the last part in a barely audible whisper, her voice breaking.

"I see."

She could not give a name to the way in which he said it and for a fleeting moment she thought she saw a pained look flash across his face, but she was certain she only imagined it – his expression did not change at all. When he spoke again, it was in his usual tone of cool irony.

"It is flattering that you should have such... elevated... feelings for me, Bella. However, I do not require your love, only your obedience – nothing else. Nothing. Is that clear?"

His words struck a new chord in her heart. This was worse than the torture. She wished for the pain to return and consume this new feeling. Her body was quivering and it took all of her remaining strength to force out the words, "Yes, my Lord..."

He continued evenly. "Emotion is what makes you weak, Bella, and..." He turned around abruptly, wand pointed into the darkness. "Avada Ked..."

"My Lord, please, no!" He was interrupted by a shrill voice that came from that direction. "It is only I, your loyal servant, Wormtail," it added fearfully. Several seconds later a short, awkward-looking man emerged into view.

"Well, well. My Death Eaters do seem to choose the most peculiar of times for pleasure walks… and the most unlikely locations," the tall hooded man spoke sarcastically.

"M-my Lord, I was just trying to apparate… and the location..." The short man stumbled.

"Silence, fool, I do not care for the details of your incompetence. I do not even know why I bother keeping you alive, you pitiful excuse for a wizard... However, you can make yourself useful at the moment. Go and fetch Rodolphus. He is to come here and take his wife back to the Malfoys'. Furthermore, he is to make sure that she does not again leave the house against my orders. Tell him that should he fail to do so, he will answer to Lord Voldemort, and by that I mean that he will answer to me with his life."

"Yes m-my Lord." The short man scurried away. There was a loud crack then everything fell silent.

He turned to look at the now limp figure at his feet. Her eyes were closed. He looked away. For a while he stood still, looking out into the foggy night. Then there were steps and voices in the distance. He stepped back, blending with the nearby shadows, and waited.

"Somewhere around here," the voice belonged to Wormtail.

"I don't understand, what happened? She is the last person I could expect to... do something like that," the other voice was somewhat agitated.

"Well, Rodolphus, I don't know, but she is _your _wife. Best keep a better eye on her from now on. Not that you have a choice in the matter if you value your life at all... And here we are."

"And... the Dark Lord has left her alive... I just... Oh, Bella! Bella! Are you alright?" Rodolphus was kneeling down beside her, his right arm under her head.

Bellatrix opened her eyes and looked at him at first with some wonder but quickly composed herself.

"I am perfectly fine."

"Let me help you."

"I said I am fine." She began to stand up, and wavered for a moment. She did not know whether she would be able to make even a few steps. Rodolphus extended his hand to her. She thought of accepting her husband's help. And then she thought of _him_. No, she would rather die than let anyone _else_ see her weak.

"Don't... touch me."

Rodolphus drew back in bewilderment. Wormtail shrugged. It was not what she said, though that was rather unusual, nor was it the arrogant manner in which she said it – _that, _on the contrary, was quite characteristic; it was the strange glimmer of her eyes that made Rodolphus quite suddenly very afraid, though not very certain what exactly he was afraid _of_. Wormtail, who was not as observant, did not display any further interest in the situation.

She did not know how she did it, but she managed to stand up. She began walking in the direction of the Malfoy residence, without another look at either her husband or Wormtail.

"Bella, wait! Where are you going? _Why_ are you going?"

"I want to walk. Feel free to apparate though, Rodolphus, I promise I will not run away."

"Well, since we got this sorted out, I will be on my way now," Wormtail began to walk away in the opposite direction.

"Wait! Aren't you going to come with me to make sure she is ok?"

"Why should I? She is your responsibility, isn't she?" with that, Wormtail disappeared in the fog.

Rodolphus hurried after Bellatrix; she was nowhere in sight, however. He decided to walk towards the Malfoys'; with some luck, he thought, he would catch up to her.

She was walking as quickly as she could. Voldemort had followed her quietly, staying in the shadows. She was starting to feel dizzy. Step. One more now. Step. Step. Her body would not move. She was very cold. She could not focus her eyes; everything was starting to get blurry. She tried to stay conscious... And then everything went black.

He picked her up in his arms and pressed her cold, barely-alive body close to his. Her heartbeat was very faint. He passed his hand over her forehead. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. He considered apparating with her to the Malfoys. No, he thought, it would not do. He waited until he could hear Rodolphus' steps nearby, then he placed her back on the ground and returned to the shadows. Rodolphus appeared a moment later, looked at Bellatrix and sighed; he then picked her up and disapparated; Voldemort followed shortly after.

Rodolphus left Bellatrix in her room, which was adjacent to his. Technically, his was supposed to be _their_ room, but Bellatrix insisted that they have separate quarters and moved into the adjacent guestroom. She rarely visited him anymore.

* * *

She was asleep. Voldemort walked in quietly and, leaning against the wall, stood watching her for a while. Mine – mind, body and soul... is it? No, Bella, not yet, not quite. You wonder whether I know? Whether I see? I do. The question is, do _you_? You want that which you cannot have… only as long as you can't have it; you so desperately want _me_ to need you only because you believe that I do not. That is what drives your passion and your passion is what _I_ need. Oh yes, I _need_ your passion, Bella. You see, there are two things which make this life worth living – passion and power: I have the second, you give me the first. You, Bella, truly are a work of art, and an unrivaled masterpiece at that, but you have yet to learn the difference between passion and power – to you, they are inseparable, that is the reason for your struggle. You and I share passion – it takes two to possess. Power, on the other hand, can belong only to one, and that is where you are _not_ my equal, nor can you ever be. In fact, you know that much, but you cannot accept it, can you? You _need _the thrill of a battle, of a struggle, not for victory – you know there can be no victory for you here, but for its own sake. You want to suffer, Bella. I shall oblige. Rest well.

* * *

It was half past seven when she woke. The Malfoy Mansion stood enveloped in a thick mist and the dark sky promised another storm.

A dream, she thought, it must have been only a dream.

She sat in her bed. There was a mirror across the room and she saw herself in it.

No!

Then it was not a dream…

But then… She felt herself suffocating. The window… She had her wand.

A breath of fresh air… Much better… She covered her face with her hands for a moment. She needed to organize her thoughts. Perhaps a stroll in the garden…

She conjured some water to clean herself up and took care of the bruises that marred her skin. Then she put on a black silk dress and, not wanting to run into anyone, stole quietly through the back door leading into the garden.

She picked a remote corner and sat down on the carved stone bench underneath some lilac. She made another attempt to think over everything that happened, but once again her thoughts were interrupted. She heard steps. She stood up.

"Lucius."

"Bella."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why, I happen to live here, dear sister-in-law. A better question is what are _you_ doing here? I heard that our lord has forbidden you from leaving the house."

"I had to get some fresh air."

"I would think last night you had gotten plenty," his lips curled in a smile.

"Watch it, Lucius," she drew her wand and pointed it at his chest. His smile faded. She lowered her wand. "So everyone knows already?"

"You know Wormtail cannot keep his mouth shut."

"That weasel…"

"Technically, he is a rat."

"I am so glad this amuses you. Poor Narcissa."

"What?"

"Don't think that your pastimes are a secret from anyone."

"Lucius! Lucius!" A girl's voice rang through the garden. "Lucius, we are waiting for you! Oh!" The girl came into view. She had green eyes and wavy blond hair. She was not yet twenty.

It was Bellatrix's turn to smile. The girl shuddered.

"I will be there in a minute." The girl disappeared.

Lucius scowled.

"It is none of your business, Bellatrix."

"Of course. And what happened last night is none of yours."

"If you think you can…"

"You may entertain yourself with our new recruits as you like."

"I would be careful, if I were you." With that he turned around and disappeared after the girl.

* * *

On the doorstep she ran into Snape.

"How wonderful to see you, Bellatrix."

"I am afraid I cannot say the same to you, Severus."

"Surely you do not need to make anymore enemies, do you? All things considered…"

"And why do you care so much about my well-being?"

"I do not; I was just here to pass on some information to our Dark Lord, who, by the way, would like to see you…"

She turned pale and, pushing Snape out of the way, hurried inside.

* * *

A minute later she was in his study. It was dark there. The only light came from the dark green curtains at the window that seemed to glow a little with the light from the outside. The door closed behind her. She knelt at the entrance and fixed her gaze on his outline at the other end of the room. His back was to her. She heard thunder. Again, she thought. He turned slowly. Her eyes met his. Her heart beat faster. Please, she thought, please…

"Crucio!"

He lifted the curse very quickly. It was as if an electric shock passed through her. She fell forward. Hearing his even steps approach her, she lifted herself off the floor a little and looked up to meet his gaze again. Tears were standing in her eyes.

"Why," he asked softly, "do you find it so difficult to obey my orders, Bella?"

She fought to compose herself and succeeded. "Master," she answered very quietly, "I will bear any punishment you wish me to." She kissed the hem of his robes.

"That you will," he laughed coldly.

"Pity," he added, "But you have left me with little choice."

He waved his wand. She felt a lash tear the fabric of her dress and cut into her skin; it was not an ordinary lash: the cut burned agonizingly. He waved his wand again. Another lash. She stifled a scream. The pain did not fade. Again. And again. And again. She lay flat on the floor. Her dress was completely torn. Her back was covered in bloody bruises.

"These will not heal," he stated quietly, "and the pain will not go away, until I decide otherwise."

She was trembling, but had enough strength to kneel before him once more.

"As you wish… my Lord," she whispered as she pressed her lips to his hand.

"Rise."

She obeyed. He passed his hand down her neck. Her breath quickened. He smiled. Her dress, or what remained of it, fell. She took an involuntary step back and ended up against the wall, though not quite touching it. He took a step forward. Leaning close to her he whispered, "This might hurt." He pinned her shoulders against the wall with his hands. She gasped. She quivered as his robes lightly brushed against her skin. She felt his breath on her neck and her heart skipped a beat.

"Weak," he whispered, as he stepped away.

Then the sensation of burning pain overwhelmed her. She sunk down to the floor. He smiled coldly and left the room without another word.

Hot tears of rage were streaming down her face. Gradually exhaustion won over.

* * *

She came back to consciousness several hours later. She looked around. She was still in the study. The burning sensations from before had faded. It was quiet. She found her wand nearby and conjured a robe for herself. She was about to leave.

"Where are you going, Bella?" An all too familiar high cold voice.

Startled, she lost her footing for a moment and grasped the wall for support – it dissolved under her touch, causing her to fall into what turned out to be another room. The wall instantly resealed itself, leaving her in complete darkness.

"You are not leaving already, are you? I was so hoping you would stay just a little longer."

She could not tell where the voice was coming from. Uncertainly she pointed her wand into the darkness. It flew out of her hand.

"Tsk. Tsk. You should not do that… There are no enemies here, Bella…" The voice hissed. He was standing over her.

Panic and apprehension gripped her. She stood up trembling against the wall.

"Fear does not suit you, Bella," the voice spoke very quietly, "What is it that you are afraid of? A little pain? ... Crucio!"

She stifled a scream.

"No, Master…" She whispered.

"What is it then?" He passed a finger across her lips. She closed her eyes and breathed in. She felt herself pinned to the wall again, felt his lips on her neck, and her heartbeat quickened. Icy fingers moving over her body… She fell to her knees with her head bowed.

"My Lord…"

She kissed his feet.

He raised her. His lips found and locked with hers as he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders. She felt his body rigid against hers, like that of a marble statue suddenly animated with the fire of life, and she gave herself to him completely.

"Now, Bella, you are mine," he whispered with the slightest smile playing on his lips, his blood red eyes holding her whole.

"Yes, Master…" she answered quietly… each word a caress. And then even more quietly added, "…Always."

**The End**

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**Hope you enjoyed.**

**All comments are welcome.**

**_Please do let me know if you liked it and want to see more._**


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